


Stabby The Unicorn

by AnonAnton



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bullying, Crack, Creature Castiel, Fluff, Gen, I'm literally trying to come up with tags here..., M/M, Minor Injuries, Theft, Unicorns, stabby the unicorn, unicorn!cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-21
Updated: 2017-04-21
Packaged: 2018-10-22 05:54:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10691097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonAnton/pseuds/AnonAnton
Summary: Dean believed the myth as a child. As a teen and young adult he hunted the legend. As an adult, he found the reality— Unicorns.They were not what he expected.





	Stabby The Unicorn

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Angel170](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angel170/gifts).



> It's only fair to say that I don't actually own Stabby the Unicorn, and if you want his official merch head over to [Teeturtle](https://www.teeturtle.com/products/stabby-the-unicorn-pink?variant=24994189577). This is the lil' guy who inspired the conversation that inspired this story.

Dean heard the noise—the earth shaking pummelling he had been waiting his whole life for—before he saw them—

It was dawn, and the thumping was immediately obvious, drowning out the beginnings of birds’ song.

The rustling of undergrowth was next, then the harsh breathing. Dean held his breath. He was hidden well, had been for days. He had studied, researched, hunted down the signs. He knew their patterns, their habits, even when most of the world still believed them a myth.

Unicorns.

His breath left him in a silent rush.

They were stunning. Larger than horses, more sturdily built. They had shining, gleaming coats; the palest of blues, greens, whites and yellows. Each adult had an almost glowing, perfect, straight gold horn protruding from their forehead. Their manes and tails either mimicked their coat in colour, or shone gold too.

But, best of all, they chose to stop their cantering run, directly in front of Dean’s hideout.

He had hoped they would, the situation was perfect; shelter, a stream, plenty of food near by…

Dean was enamoured.

He began taking notes, his video recorder was already set up in the hope that they would pass  by. He began cataloguing, snapping photos using the telegraphic lense…

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered, too quiet for even his own ears to pick up.

He scanned the herd, his eyes falling on a huge male, tossing his head and stamping the ground, his unblemished, spotless white hide gleaming in the rising sun.

Three of the creatures peeled off into the tree cover away from Dean. He watched them until his eyes landed on—

—On something different.

It was a male, sized similarly to the others, but his hide was a pale pink. His mane and tail, the hair surrounding his hooves were all black. He was so different. His pale pink hair darkened across his back and flanks, turning almost black to match the mane, his horn was black too, and twisted around and around, ending in a broken off stump—and he was looking at Dean.

It was impossible— Dean’s scent was covered, nothing of his hiding place could be seen. No other unicorns had detected him. Yet this one—this one, with his huge, intelligent blue eyes—had.

“Shit,” he muttered, taking as many pictures as he could before he was discovered by the rest of the herd.

But, before he could curse his bad luck further, the creature turned, looking to the ground, just as the three returned, approaching him from the trees.

They started baying, rearing, stamping their hooves and tossing their heads. Then one stabbed the pink unicorn in the side with his horn, another scratched along his shoulder, both drawing blood, and Dean noticed for the first time, the myriad of scars criss crossing the unicorn’s side.

The pink one snorted, shook his head and disappeared, surprisingly swiftly and silently, into the trees.

The three remaining clashed horns and returned to the shining leader, their job seemingly done.

Dean was appalled. How could such majestic beasts act in such a way?

An hour later, and Dean was still undetected. He had begun to catalogue their movements, and now, astoundingly, believed them, not only intelligent, but able to communicate between themselves. They had a language. They were people…

The pink beast returned. Behind him, he pulled a cart.

Dean found himself wanting to scream. It was built by human hands, and rigged so that four horses could pull it—and only one of these beautiful, intelligent animals was squeezed into the harness, struggling to pull the huge weight in a straight line to the rest of the herd. Upon the cart Dean saw blankets, food… human supplies. They were intelligent, and more dexterous than Dean had given them credit for.

In a panic he checked the video recorder, suddenly fearful that no one would believe him, he needed proof.

He spent the rest of the day, cramped and enraptured, watching the herd’s every move avidly. He kept an eye on the pink unicorn, mostly left alone, standing on the very edge of the herd, his head hung, his broken horn a sad thing.

-

By nightfall the herd were bundled up together—the young lying next to the adults, or they had paired off and found secluded spots together.

Dean set his alarm for four in the morning, his headphones securely screwed into his ears, and allowed himself to get some sleep, the video still recording, the pink unicorn, still standing, alone, his eyes flicking to Dean’s hideout.

-

Dean awoke, uncomfortable and cramped, to the irritating jingle of his alarm sounding through his headphones. He turned it off and tried to stretch, wrinkling his nose and the small hideout he hadn’t left in the past twenty-four hours.

First, he reached to check the recording equipment and found it still going, the herd still sleeping soundly in the pre-dawn dark. He reached for his camera to take a close up of a young unicorn stretched on its back, legs at strange angles in the air.

But, his camera wasn’t where he had left it…

He froze, finally awake enough to look about. Things had been disturbed in the night…

He looked back at the herd… All was as it had been…

Except the pink unicorn was no longer there.

Dean was on edge the rest of the morning, watching the herd wake, talk, greet each other, drink from the stream and pull fruit and root vegetables from the cart. He watched in agitation as something began to infect the herd. It began with the leader, the great white unicorn, he sent his lieutenants off again— They returned to him, dejected, and from there the whole herd began to move, to snort and stamp…

They dispersed, returning a few at a time, until—

The pink unicorn walked into the clearing, his black hooves thumping hard on the packed earth, his head held high… Dean’s machete strapped to his broken, twisting, black horn.

Dean’s jaw dropped.

“Wha?” he whispered, drawing only the blue gaze of the pink unicorn. He was sure he smiled—in an equine kinda way.

Dean could only take picture after picture as the herd began to fight the pink one—Stabby, as Dean dubbed him. But Stabby could now hold his own, his broken horn replaced with a blade. He dealt out slashes and cuts and stabs, hurting as much as he was hurt. The fight went on, Stabby never once backing down, rising to every challenge. Dean began to wonder how a four legged, hooved creature had used Dean’s rope to tie Dean’s machete to his horn…

With a final screaming whinney, Stabby landed a slashing blow to the leader’s face, flaying open the skin at the base of his golden horn and cutting through it at the base, sending it to the hard ground where he stamped on it, snorting hard.

The leader whinnied, his dark eyes wide, and took off, galloping between the trees. The entire herd followed behind leaving Stabby, bleeding, and all alone.

Dean didn’t even think, he was out of his hide, running toward the lone unicorn before he could stop himself.

He stopped short, when, in the clearing, the beast’s size suddenly became apparent. Just like the stink of blood and sweating horse and the gleeful, accomplished expression in the unicorn’s eyes.

The unicorn, still breathing heavily, bowed to Dean.

“I—what—” Dean mumbled, his eyes on the glinting blade still tied to the unicorns black horn.

Then—he began to change. Dean blinked, and he was certain, that for a millisecond, there was both a unicorn and a man stood before him, until—there was only a man; looking solemn despite his well built nakedness, and handing the blade back to Dean, hilt first...

Dean’s brain kicked into overdrive and he realised that unicorns were shapeshifters, intelligent, humanoid… and so very, very _other_.

Without thought he tried his best to mimic the creatures’ greeting he had witnessed, the head toss and the foot stamp.

He stopped short—wide eyes fearful—when the blue eyes on the slightly pink tinged humanoid, with messy black hair, started gurgling; his head thrown back, those wide eyes squeezed shut… a smile on his face.

“Y—you just s—said ‘Can we mate?’” and he collapsed—laughing, cackling, giggling, unable to stop—to the floor.

Dean blushed.

“I—I mean, thank you for trying. I do appreciate it, b—but… We’ve had longer to study your language than you have ours,” he finished, his deep voice levelling out, becoming calm as he wiped tears of laughter from his eyes.

With a surprised breath, he dropped to the ground in front of the naked unicorn. “I—I’m Dean. I’m so sorry for saying that! But, it’s _really_ nice to meet you. I—are you okay? You’re not hurt?”

The unicorn was still suppressing short giggles, covering his mouth, grinning. His nose wrinkled when he grinned. He was adorable. Dean blushed again. He could feel the heat rise.

“I—no, well, no more than usual. Thank you Dean, for the loan of your blade. I could not have escaped them without it. When I sensed you, I finally found hope. Hope that I could escape my herd.”

He looked sober again, and Dean wanted to gather him up, hold him, make it better, kiss the scars better, both the ones visible and those on his soul. “I had to prove myself to them—after years, _years,_ of being ostracized for being different, I had to send them away. To leave me alone. I had to frighten them. Now… I _am_ alone. Completely.”

He sounded sad. He looked sad. He huffed out a breath, looking at the knife Dean had yet to take from him. “It is a shame that no other herd will take me,” he muttered, shrugging.

“I—I have, um. I,” Dean paused, unable to believe what he was saying. But the unicorn looked up, his blue eyes catching his. Dean noticed he had darker skin across his shoulders, and at his wrists and ankles. The unicorn’s gaze held him, implored him, asked him to say what they both knew was coming.

“I have a brother, a nephew, an uncle, a sister-in-law. I, um, I have a herd.”

The unicorn grinned, and Dean saw just in his hairline, a flash of something dark, like obsidian or hematite, glinting in the sun.

“I accept. My name is Castiel.”

He stamped his left foot on the ground and tossed his head to the right, even in his seated position—copying Dean’s greeting to him not ten minutes previously.

Dean’s third blush was answer enough.

\---

Look! I got fan art! The wonderful [Shannon-kind](https://shannon-kind.tumblr.com/) drew him for me!


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